Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Question: if you lived to be 100, how many of those years
would be spent in private conversation with yourself?

a. 5
years

b. 15
years

c. 30
years

d. 70
years

Before I reveal the answer, I think this begs another
important question, probably the question I should have asked first: do you
talk to yourself?

Don’t fib. It’s yes. In fact scientists tell us this is
exactly what separates us from animals: we think about how we think. We also
think about how others think. Plus, we know that others think about our
thinking. Basically all this internal debating is something animals just can’t
do.

Whether it’s dreaming, or daydreaming or repeating lyrics
or an interior monologue or writing, it’s all inside one’s head. Apparently,
part of this is completely psychological. Humans fear sudden stillness. To
freeze means there is danger so we avoid that fear, consciously or not, by
initiating a barrage of inside thoughts in the form of conversations.
Essentially, we are equipped with our own inner narrator and that can be
comforting. (Plus he might like to hum 80s song lyrics too. Just sayin.)

Anyway, so here’s the next question: what exactly do you
say to yourself?

That, in fact, is the most important question: is your
self-talk helping or hindering? To whom have you permitted rental space inside
your head? Someone you like? Or someone who needs an eviction notice?

We really do have the power to evict. We can learn
something about this from athletes. They are taught a variety of strategies to
change their negative self-talk such as thought-stopping, thought-replacement,
focus on the present and turning a negative into a question. It’s not rocket
science is it? But it does take practice. For example, the latter strategy
would go like this...instead of saying, “I can’t handle this!” say “How can I
handle this?”

(I must admit that the voice in my head just now remarked
that everything I’ve written thus far is utter drivel so believe me, I know how
hard this is for you. And by you I mean me too.)

Last question: what's the big ideal? According to writer Hugh Phillips, the answer to that opening question is a doozie: 70 years. Think about that. It really does matter how you talk to yourself. Is the conversation inside you a healthy one?

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Everyone has a father. Or had one. You might look just like him. You might have his eyebrows or his cleft chin. Or his eyes. Or maybe not. Maybe he isn't even related to you. Maybe your Mom found a better one for you. Maybe you had to pick him.

You can honor him one way: by becoming the best person you can be. (You can also give him chocolate chips, hugs, a back-scratcher and an ice-cream cake from Dairy Queen, or you can insert your own idea here, but mostly just become a good person.) Show some respect. A little goes a long way. Believe me.

You can also honor him by thinking about him because if he's a good father he thinks about you. All. The. Time. Even and especially when you wish he wouldn't, when you wish he would just cut you some slack. Because fathers can be annoying. Or demanding. Or disappointing. Or unreasonable at times. We aren't perfect. We're human. But the majority of us are doing the best we can, so shouldn't you too?

So think about your father. Think about the good moments. Those were the moments he was investing in you. (There were many moments behind the scenes you may never even know about.) Sure, maybe he didn't always invest in the ways you wanted, maybe he invested more money than time, maybe he invested more in demands than in diversions. Maybe this, maybe that. Someday you'll know things you don't know now and someday you'll know just how complicated life can be. Try to forgive him for the mistakes he made. Try. If he's a good father, he's forgiven you at least once for every sunset you've shared.

Think gratitude. Collage it in your mind. Or write it down. Or better yet, make art in all the things that you do. Thank him. Kiss him on the cheek. Engage him in a talk. Ask his advice. Invite him to walk by the river. Make him laugh. Come home when he told you to. Do something without being asked. Listen. Make your words match your actions. But above all this: become the best person you can. And then say, "Look at me Dad" because he loves that. Believe me. There's nothing more tasty for his eyes than you. Than you.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

1. Only ladies are allowed?
2. Only ladies and girls are allowed?
3. Only ladies with female babies are allowed?
4. Only ladies with twins are allowed?
5. Only those creepy twins from The Shining are allowed?

Friday, June 7, 2013

Sometimes I wonder if the big mistakes people make are not mistakes at all but secret choices, just to see, just to see what would happen? Just to feel a little more alive than idling every once in a while.

Sometimes I wonder why idling feels so comfortable to me.

Sometimes I'm amazed at how comfortable I am with stepping on the gas when I need to.

Sometimes (and I do not intend this to be analytical not judgmental if at all possible) I am curious what compels adults to get drunk. (Teens I mostly understand: they seem to court drunkenness because they haven't yet figured out their authentic selves are much much more interesting than what they hope to de-emphasize or overemphasize about their developing personalities.)

Sometimes I wonder if adults are just teens with mortgages.

Sometimes I think some people get drunk because they're genuinely happy. It's simply a celebration, a bonding opportunity. Yet, I wonder...are they sad? Or numb? Is it a shell remover? Or a method to gather courage and light a fire with it?

Sometimes I wonder if I disappoint (alienate? disillusion?) my friends and acquaintances because I cannot be anyone's drinking buddy. I cannot get drunk. Sure, I enjoy a drink or two but getting drunk? That just sounds so exhausting.

Sometimes I wonder why drinking feels exhausting to me.

Sometimes I wonder if it's at all possible to get to the bottom of something (or someone or anything or especially myself).

Saturday, June 1, 2013

In its playfulness (and in a mere ten words), Paul Klee's statement reveals the spark burning at the core of a dot thus the true nature of anything simple might just be much much more than those who aren't really looking could ever fathom and this inspires in me a deeper supposing about Art and creativity and imagination.